


Know My Faults

by GrahamsLexa



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Bruce Wayne, Everyone blames Bruce's life choices, Fluff, Forced operation, Gay Joker, Genderqueer Joker, Healthy batjokes, I dont even ship batjokes, Lobotomy, M/M, Mental Institutions, Not Anymore, Rating May Change, The Joker isnt The Joker, discovering sexuality, farms, mental patients, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10078958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrahamsLexa/pseuds/GrahamsLexa
Summary: About that time The Joker died (or so Arkham wanted Gotham to think)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, really nothing.  
> ALSO: I don't ship batjokes? Not entirely? Not in the comics instead? But Lego batjokes? Sign me up? This isn't Lego tho? Please don't imagine pieces of plastic in this? This is comicverse/movie verse? But I will ship batjokes in this because the Joker doesn't remember shit? But Bruce does remember? That's why it's slowburn?

5:26 AM, the time the dark knight finally gets to sleep, when the sunrise is coming and civilians are awaking.  
But not him, he sleeps, like the nightcrawling creature he is. But tonight, not even then the odds would let him rest.  
Bruce was barely able of putting his head on the pillow when his phone rang, and for the sake of whoever called, he hoped it was important.  
"Wayne. What is it?" He brought himself to speak, rolling on his back to a sitting position again.  
"Gordon." The man on the other side of the line cleared his throat. "We need Batman at Arkham, now."  
Bruce sighed. "What happened?"  
The older man was growing impatient, Bruce could tell by the loud groan that although he was sure the comisioner had let out away from the phone, was still pretty audible. "It's important."  
Finally, Bruce resigned to his faith of a restless day and replied. "On my way." He didn't think being angry at this time was good for the old man, and neither for him to try arguing. 

Almost 2 hours of a drive later, he was by the gates of the asylum, being welcomed in with such eagerness that pointed at him that /everyone/ probably knew he was expected.

"Gordon." The comisioner was waiting for him in the hall, and Bruce could tell it probably wasn't good by the look on the man's eyes. "What happened?"  
Jim scratched the back of his head, frowning, that distinctive look that was currently his seal welcomed him. "He's dead." 

And by the commotion in the place, and the importance of the news for the asylum. He didn't even need to hear a name.

The Joker was dead, and that night, Gotham would sleep in peace. 

▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  

2 WEEKS LATER, 

It was just time until the fights in Gotham's crime started, everyone fighting with claws and teeth for the empty chair the Joker left. And that gave Batman a lot of work, and a lot of time to clear up his mind.  
It didn't make sense, it just didn't, no matter how he put the puzzle pieces in his head. It still didn't match.  
The forensic report was simple; Suicide, clean with a revolver that no one ever tried to explain how he even managed to get. He left no note, no hidden message, no games.  
That was what gave it away, the Joker wouldn't have used to gun to kill himself and if he had he would have made sure to give a hell of trouble after he was gone.  
But this was not the case, the only thing left from the clown was his mourning sidekick and gang trying to defend his place. And that led Batman into biting even less into the suicide, his people thought he was still out there.  
But what if he was? What if he was really out there? 

WAYNE MANOR, 4:20 AM 

Batman's work was done, and he could finally rest.  
He decided to take a shower instead, that specific night the pain on his back and the storm reign in his mind decided that it would take a lot to make him sleep. He knew, he just knew.

He turned on the warm water and soon the room was full of vapor and the mirror was covered in fog.  
He placed the silk robe aside, and quietly stepped into the water, sighing in satisfaction.  
Bruce just stayed there for a moment, quiet, letting the water damp his hair and relax the muscles of his back and neck. And think, definitely think. 

Until he felt goosebumps on the back of his neck, he froze in fear. 

Noone was behind him, he was sure, it was impossible. They would have had to go through Wayne Manor's security system, Alfred and the door didn't even crack.  
But he could swear he felt cold air blowing on the back of his neck..  
The breath of a dead man.  
And even if he knew it was impossible, the possibility was chilling. He couldn't believe this man was driving him insane even after death.

He rushed to finish his shower and get out of there as soon as possible. He didn't sleep at all that day.

GOTHAM CITY,  3 WEEKS LATER.  

The wind blows wildly that night, like a thousand war horses anticipating the dark knight's fight.  
He'd grown convinced that he needed answers, he needed to see a body at least. He needed closure, he needed to not feel haunted by the ghost of his worse enemy.  
And he knew exactly who to consult for that.

▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  

GOTHAM CITY, THAT NIGHT. 

"Quit the games, Quinn." He remained hidden where the bullets from Joker's sidekick couldn't reach, and he remembered that this was on the first times he was able of fighting her alone. And honestly? She was putting a fair fight. "I just want to talk!"  
The fire eased, briefly, and he was able of getting a peak of blue eyes covered in thick layers of blue and pink makeup. "No way! B-man! I may be out of mah mind, but I'm no Idiot." And the hostile fire started again. "I know ya will get me locked up in the same place where I lost mah puddin' as soon as I let you get hands on me."  
He knew that she would run away soon, and her track would be way more difficult to get this time, he needed to do something kick.  
A smoke grenade was thrown her way, and the curtain of smoke was just what he needed to take her gun away and, hopefully, answers.  
"What the..STOP! Whatcha think you're doing?!" He wrapped one hand around her wrist, tightening his grip until she let go of the gun.  
"We need to talk about The Joker." 

▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  

"What about Mr J?" Harley bit the corner of her lip, eyes darting to the floor. She might be good with guns, but lying didn't seem her strong fit.  
"Where is he?" The knight asked, that night he wasn't having it. In fact, with all the little sleep he had in the last week, he wasn't having it at all.  
"Well, he's dead, B-man! I thought you were at Arkham when.." —"We both know that it's not true, Harley! I need the truth, where is the Joker? Spill it now or I'll get you locked up in Arkham and I promise you will never see sunrise again." He interrupted. Barking furiously in his usual Batman tone, which in this situation sounded angrier than often.  
But then, she broke into tears, paint running down her cheekbones. And he couldn't help but feel a tiny ounce of pity.  
"They did,,"  She sobbed ",, Something to him. I know Mr J better, he wouldn't just blow his brains off, not in a good day at least." Her eyes reddened on the white edge, full of uncertainty and anger. Like the mother of a child killed by the system. "They did something to him. I don't trust them, B-man, they aren't good people and they harmed my puddin." 

That's all he needed to know, and he left the mourning and clueless girl to cry in that alley. Half hoping that she'd get a warm place to sleep in that night.  

▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  

ARKHAM ASYLUM, THAT NIGHT. 

The night was cold, like knives stinging the exposed parts of his face by the cowl. And Arkham seemed particularly colder, he could easily see this place driving people to insanity rather than curing.  
And walking by the hallways, he could hear the chorus of inmates screaming his name, and he knew that the person he wanted to see probably already knew he was home. 

"Doctor." The knight called, and the greying head turned around with a jerk forward. Almost shacking, the look of a guilty man hanging from his face.  
"B..Batman, we weren't expecting you." The old man fixed his glasses, not able of breaking eye contact with the bat but yet practically melting with every second.  
"I'm aware, I came here to see you." Batman growled, taking a step forward the man. "I know."  
The doctor gulped. "Y..You know?"  
His hands grasped the man's shirt neck, pushing him against the wall. "I know about the Joker, I know about the recent 'deaths', I know everything. And you're going down."  
The man let out a choked cry, tears spiking on his eyes like needles. He was guilty, and he knew that his career was over. "Please don't tell the comisioner, I'm making huge advances. I need my project to stay intact."  
—"Show me. Show me and I'm shut." 

▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  

"We're performing surgeries on them, by severing the connections between frontal lobes or prefrontal cortex, taking the patients into an 'induced childhood' state, if you will." The doctor spoke gripping the edge of his notebook like a lifesaver. "We tried it in non-severe patients, it was pretty successful. We didn't know if we wanted to risk it, but we decided to try it on our worse patient." The Joker.  
"Did it work?"  
The Doctor stopped by one of the metal isolation doors and Bruce followed, hardly grasping that with that silence there was any possibility for the Joker to be behind that door.  
" Why don't you find out yourself?" 

▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  ▩  

ARKHAM ASYLUM, CELL 420# 

"Joker." The Doctor spoke, the man sitting by the floor didn't even flinch. "You have a visit."  
And so, he was left alone with the last person he'd want to be locked with. 

Bruce just observed him for a moment, and the Joker didn't seem in a rush to talk neither. I fact, he wasn't sure that he knew he wasn't alone.  
He wasn't wearing any facepaint, and he almost looked naked. He was wearing a simple onesie with his cell number on his back and chest, and instead of a mat of green locks there was gold instead.  
He was just sitting in front of a white wall, where he made traces with a small red crayon. Surprisingly, he was good.  
And judging by the red-covered walls, pretty bored as well.  
"Joker." Still, nothing. "Do you remember me?"  
He sighed. Oh, 'so you're just ignoring me.' Bruce thought, and he couldn't help but feel slightly offended.  
"You don't want to talk?" Still ignoring. 

So Bruce decided to call it a night, but at least this time he'd be able to sleep in peace.  
/and maybe he'd come back in the morning./


	2. Martha's Portraits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust  
> /trest/  
> firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.  
> "relations have to be built on trust"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH IF THAT DIDN'T TAKE TOO LONG FOR A SHORT CHAPTER UPDATE.   
> I'm curious, do ya'll like longer chapter are are OK with 2k-1k words per chapter? I can do longer and I definitely will try if you want me to.  
> DISCLAIMER//I own nothing

He thought knowing where The Joker was, that he would never harm anybody again, would help him rest. But it didn't. Bruce appreciated knowing, it left things with clarity for sure. But then, there was to worry about that man, whatever his name was.   
 God, his conscience was killing him. This was illegal, what they had done to The Joker was illegal, these people are willing to ruin lives just to try their little experimental treatment. And for what was worse, /He was helping them./ covering up their dirty work, and just heavens know how many more patients are being treated daily. 

It was past 5 AM when he was able of falling asleep, aware that he'd probably be late to everything the next day, but he couldn't bring himself to care then. 

LATER THAT DAY

Bruce would be lying if he said that the idea of paying the man another visit hadn't been roaming his mind since he left. Mainly because he couldn't help but feel a pinch of guilt knowing that he was now, somehow involved.   
But too, he'd imagined that if The Joker had kept at least an ounce of his own personality, he was probably extremely bored. That white wall would soon be full of red sketches, and the red crayons wouldn't last forever either.  

So, he stopped at the closest art supply store, bought a better quality pencil for the man, a sketchbook and plenty of color pencils. 

ARKHAM ASYLUM 

Bruce had directed to the same Doctor from last night, same who seemed totally bothered because 'Batman' had apparently spilled the tea to Wayne. Which was almost laughable considering that the thought of telling Gordon had almost brushed to reality that same night too, but he didn't. Maybe a little scare from time to time would keep the doctor on his toes, and maybe the number of patients would stop going down as drastically as it was lately.  

He was left by his own on room 420#, and as usual, he found the sight of the blond man sketching on the wall. Completely unbothered, completely ignoring Bruce as if ignoring him would be enough to send him away.   
Did he just not like company? Or was anything about Bruce that he just didn't like?   
"Hey" He spoke quietly, slowly approaching the man. "The man from last night, he sent me here, he wanted you to have this."   
The Joker stilled, and it was brief but probably the one and only reaction Bruce was able of pulling from him.   
And finally, he turned around, facing Bruce with scarred lips that suddenly didn't look so threatening anymore. If all, it made him look the most harmless that man would ever look. 

Bruce was hoping for a word, any at all. Instead, he got the faintest ghost of a gratitude smile, and for then it would be enough. 

...

That visit was spent with Bruce speaking by his own, happy to know that even if he wasn't participating, The Joker listened. The blond man was sketching on his new notebook while Bruce entertained him, from stories about his mother's interest with art to how it was like to work on a big company. But the other man seemed more interested in soft stories of picnic days and green grass under the warm touch of the sun.  
Bruce wondered if The Joker understood half of the things he said, or if he remembered experienced the sun as well.

When he was leaving, a ripped page from the notebook was laid on his hands, to realise that the subject on the page was himself.   
The blond man had spent hours staring at him, and Bruce had barely even noticed. 

WAYNE MANOR, that night 

Bruce wouldn't call it disappointing, but it was definitely quite odd that some nights Gotham didn't even need Batman. Sure, sometimes there would be small robberies here and there, but nothing quite as big as he was used to.  
Maybe Harley was actually planning something, maybe The Penguin and the rest of the infamous who weren't locked up in Arkham were too. At the end, someone had to claim The Joker's throne as Gotham's prince of criminals. 

However, he had another task in mind.  
He typed into the computer for the subject of his interest, quickly popping up with a hundred of results.   
"The way of the ice pick"   
"Lobotomy before and after"  
"The awful reality behind lobotomy"   
Bruce sighed, looking away from his screen while rubbing his temples in circular motions. He had enough.   
He had enough of worrying about something he shouldn't be worried about, he had enough of wondering if he'd taken the right choice at staying shut.  
Was it really worth human cruelty to knock off the most dangerous criminal in Gotham? For the greater good. 

He realised the joy of an easy night wouldn't last long, that he'd have just as much of a hard time falling asleep.  
However, tomorrow would be a new day. 

ARKHAM ASYLUM, a few visits later 

It had turned into a routine.   
Bruce woke up, had breakfast and drove to Arkham almost every day. And when he couldn't in the morning, he often did in the evening. 

The Joker still hadn't spoken a word, and Bruce was starting to prefer it that way, because he wasn't really sure about what they'd talk about it he could.   
Sometimes they just sit there, the blond man draws while Bruce reads a book for him or describes experiences outside the asylum. The doctor had advised to not overstimulate him, that it could cause severe damage since the procedure hadn't been too long ago.   
But Bruce still did, because in a way or another he felt like he owed that broken half of a man at least company.  

"Good morning." Bruce greeted, standing by the side of the door until the blond man gave a small nod in approval.   
He watched carefully the single movements of the man's hand, painting on cotton paper with the watercolors set Bruce had provided a few visits ago. He didn't want to bother the other man, so he just sat on the other free chair to watch. "What are you working on?"   
He didn't expect an answer, he never did, in fact.   
But still...the mere possibility was the reason why he kept asking. The blond man moved his arm to the side, allowing a better sight for the vigilante. 

It was a woman sitting besides a easel, the light touches of lilac on her dress were devine. And Bruce had to give The Joker credit for perfectly placing spare bits of paint splattered on her hands and cheeks.   
For a moment, Bruce was clueless of who this woman was, and why The Joker imagined Bruce would even have an idea.  
Until he remembered of one time he was talking with The Joker, from the times were he wasn't aware if the blond listened or not. Bruce remembered telling him about the self-portraits his mother painted, he remembered describing her outfits to perfect detail.   
And then, he knew who the woman was.  

It was a random gift, an odd way of saying thank you, but Bruce would keep it dearly nonetheless.   
The rest of the visit went down as usual, Bruce observing the man work and. They often enjoyed each other's company in silence. 

...

Per usual, The Joker handed yet another gift that would go to his wall. Giving his quite signature smile, much less scarier than it used to be.    
Bruce stood up, walking back towards the door ready to leave when he heard the strangest sound. A sound that he'd never expected to hear, a sound that sounded so far away that he could have barely recognized who was speaking if there were more than two people in the room.  
"B..Bruce." Bruce turned around, eyeing the scarred man who now sat on the edge of his simple bed. "Thank you for coming." 

It wasn't much, but it was a start, and Bruce was more glad that they hadn't ruined him enough to leave him mute.   
"You're welcome." He replied. "Same time tomorrow?"  
And the blond man nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *epic music plays* he spoke ^o^   
> It's so weird writing 'The Joker' while referring to a sweetheart who loves art and is too shy to talk with ppl. But hey, AU remember? Lobotomy? Yeah. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a good one, it might rate as angst? The Joker is definitely not happy, the staff at the asylum is heavily abusive and I'll deal with that kind of stuff too. So, warning if abuse from doctors and such is a trigger then don't read (but important stuff happens on it so..)


End file.
